The job was simple, find the girl, report to his client then kill the girl. Lamb had done the same thing countless times, it wasn’t even fun anymore. As with all things, do it often enough and it becomes a chore. He held that same view with women, they were all the same once you got past their initial facades. The trail however this time was a fraction out of the norm. Tracking kindred was a refreshing change, this particular leech had drawn him into New Orleans at the height of the Mardi Gras. He didn’t mind. The hussle and crowded streets would cover any “outbursts†he might be forced into. Grinning he sidestepped onto the road, his eyes locked on the car that sat cat-like and long a hundred yards up the street. Finding himself a nice, inconspicuous position he pretended to sip the mug of coffee he’d ordered. The small sidewalk cafe was pretty quiet, most preferring to eat or drink inside away from the smoky streets. He shrugged at the foolishness of it all and sipped on watching as finally the door to an apartment block swayed open and his target stepped out, briefly glancing around herself then sliding into the car.
Her beauty surprised him, even for her kind she exuded something swan-like. Maybe it was the white skin, maybe her gait. He wasn’t sure, regardless it brought a shining twist to his task. As he watched her slide into the long saloon he noticed markings on her back, the slim top she wore failing to cover her nakedness fully. He narrowed his eyes, trying to read the words, failing he pressed a button on the oblong case on the table in front of him. The familiar click of a camera yapped out as she finally faded from plain view. The car purred as it rolled regally off, disappearing around a corner.
Lamb sighed. Well at least now he knew where. All he had to decide was when. He left a tip for the waiter then pocketing the black case he walked across the road to a payphone.
“Yes sir. Yes that’s right New Orleans. The address? Hmmm well if you need to know its 534th Reuben St. There’s a cafe just up the road from it. Yes sir of course, oh I’ll be very prudent.â€
He felt himself cough as he grinned at his clients last words. Damn kindred, can’t they just drop the mask and act like they really are? He sneered then headed back to the dingy hotel where he’d set up home.
Later in the day, as dusk began to filter down the narrow veins of New Orleans’ roads he unrolled a grey package onto his bed. The tools were as required in these particular hunts. Stakes, a heavy cutting weapon and as always a small selection of silenced firearms. Whistling he arranged the various weapons on himself or close at hand in his pouch. He waited for night to fall. He studied the photograph on a small laptop, the digital image showed the marks on her back as a word. He ran the image through a brief series of graphical filters then read, his eyes widening.
“Traditions.â€
Hmmm you were a bad girl huh? He sniggered then closed the laptop, fastening the pouch to his hip he re-checked everything before leaving. The night air over New Orleans was always heavy, filled with the breath of drunks, the smoke from drug dens. It gave each breath an acrid taste, he didn’t particularly like it but needs must. Trotting along the back streets he reached ground zero in less than fifteen minutes. Carefully pacing up the catwalk behind her building. A little homework earlier had given him her room number. Pressing a small blue pad to her window he listened in as she set about preparing a nights hunt. He waited until her bodyguard went out of the apartment then cut a hole in the glass. The door to her lounge closed, and deftly he removed the section of glass and slid in. Standing on the cistern in her bathroom he stepped down, waiting and listening again for any signs that he’d been discovered before stepping into the short, narrow hall. He began pushing the door she’d closed open. The 9 mm. Glock in his hand fired split nosed rounds, the depleted uranium core ensured that he had the stopping power of a truck.
Stepping through he raised the pistol. She spun as the trigger clicked, stopping just before the firing point.
“Wha? Who the hell are you? What the...?â€
He didn’t answer her, although silenced the pistol still made a low pop as he shot her in the chest. She spun with the impact, knocking a vase over as she hit the floor. Two seconds later the bodyguards head spat crimson as he burst into the room. Whirling back Lamb cursed the distraction as she sweeped his legs from under him, the pistol leaving his grip. As his back touched the floor he pulled another gun, a highly modified, distinctly illegal Mac-10. Firing in a short staccato he sent her wheeling back again, only this time no guard slowed him, twisting to his feet he pulled a stake from his side, slamming it into her almost sexually. She shrieked then froze as the paralysis kicked in. Tutting he lifted a two foot long, broad blade from his back. The beheading was simple, slicing the blade downwards he toed the floor as her head snapped clear. The blood, unlike in human targets, didn’t spray the room, no pulse meant little pressure. He unfastened a pocket, revealing an incendiary device. Sparking it as he placed it inside the hollow of her neck she erupted in flames, a miniature crematorium consuming her while barely charring the floor. Body fat provided the remaining fuel, burning itself to ash. Lamb was unmoved, granted the images were horrendous but no emotion clouded him.
“Well done Mr Lamb, at last I’m rid of that whining little ghost. Ah but what to do with you?â€
Lamb spun at the sound, his client stood tall, waist length black hair pulled into a rope, the thick gold chain terminating into twin snakes hung around his neck. The uninspired look was enshrouded in glinting black leather. Her sire it seemed had no intention of paying for his services.
“You know, you really shouldn’t sneak up on people. It’s rather rude and can be dangerous.â€
As he finished his sentence he sprayed the room with the pistol, the bullets fanning out, several striking the vampire as he cartwheeled out of harms way. Lamb dropped the pistol, rolling across the floor as the old kindred slammed a foot at him. Arrogance swelled in him, causing him to misjudge a block, the vampires fist blasting him into a wall. Debris littered the room as both figures clashed again, vampiric claws lashing out, slashing channels in body armour. Exchanging expert blow after blow. Lamb directed two fingers into the vampires face, popping an eye free. Enraged the vampire lifted Lamb, partially blinded as it threw him into a bureau. The wood stood firm, knocking his breath out as his muscles bruised. He looked up, angry now and charged at the agonised leech. Pulling his two remaining stakes he punched them both into the vampire, one tearing his bowels as the other paralysed him. The elder vampire staggered back then fell. His arms locking him against a cabinet his chest fully exposed.
Lamb stood shaking, he smiled at the elation that flooded his body. It was a good fight, almost too good. He placed a similar charge to that he’d used on the girl on the elders chest and stepped back as he sparked it. Body fat began to drip down the vampires face as he melted and burned himself to bare ash. Ash brushed as much of the ash into a scoop and poured the remnants of both bodies out into the night air, the gentle breeze scattering them. Sirens flooded the wind as the fighting was reported, probably by a neighbour. Lamb calmly collected his equipment, setting a large canister charge on the lounge floor and slipping out the window he’d entered. Replacing the circle as a joke.
Climbing down he headed back to his hotel room. As he disappeared the air jolted as the charge exploded. The room would now be shattered, burning any trace of his presence.
Three hours later a small passenger jet made its way to Miami, as it crossed over the bayou country Lamb looked out of his window, sunlight beaming in at him.